Lion's Call
by Rhistel Gold
Summary: Set a year after the events of Inquisition, Thedas is settling into its newfound peace when a visitor happens upon Skyhold after walking the Inquisitor's Path. No one knows where she came from, or why she's at Skyhold. Strangely, neither does she. However, all she knows is that something -or someone- called her there. [M/NSFW for later - please read (i'm terrible at summaries )]
1. Prologue - Torerra

**LION'S CALL**

_[an alternative universe Dragon Age story]_

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><p><em>There is a place in northern Thedas, shrouded in mystery, that holds secrets older than the first uttering of the Chant of Light. It is a land of magic so potent that it could decimate all of Thedas if it fell into the wrong hands, but it is also a place so pure that the darkest sinner would find themselves resolved of all wrongdoing. No one knows where this place is located, save for those who inhabit it. The only way to set foot on the shore is to be invited by someone who calls this land home. Those who do not live within it's confines forget its location instantly upon leaving, even if they are mere inches from the shorelines. All they remember is that it is beautiful, and they only know it by a single name: Torerra.<em>

_In the lifespan of Torerra, there has only ever been once incident of someone stumbling across its location without being invited, and even still,1000 years later, the residents do not understand how the man found it. A young boy, no more than thirteen years of age, washed up on the southern shore one evening in the late summer months. His clothes were shredded and bloody, his body was smattered with bruises and deep cuts. He was the only survivor of a genocide so terrible that it has been stricken from the history books for fear of such an even happening again. _

_This young boy was taken in by the country's monarchs and watched over for many days before he showed signs of recovery. Once he woke, he found himself cared for, clean, and uninjured. Not moments after his waking, he was attended to by a kind elderly woman named Ashaira, who allowed him to ask any number of questions he desired, though she did not promise to answer them all. When he was satisfied with how much information Ashaira was willing to part with, he relented, and the elder took him to see the king and queen, Their Majesties Quentin and Mona Lydes._

_Upon being presented to the young couple, the boy bowed his head and knelt, and acknowledged that he had trespassed. He surprised them by accepting whatever punishment they found him worthy of receiving, and the two found they could not punish a child who had been through hell before he'd stumbled across them. _

_Gently asking him to rise, Her Majesty spoke first, her soft-spoken voice a comfort. She gave the boy sanction, and informed him that he would be adopted by them at a later date, once they knew more about his character. The monarchs then asked the young boy his name, and he revealed it without hesitation: Xavier McDarren, of the Free Marches._

_His Majesty announced Xavier as the prince of Torerra, a proclamation that was protested at first, but once Xavier's character and integrity were investigate, the citizens became more forgiving of his intrusion onto their traditions._

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><p><em>Xavier grew and flourished, and eventually came of age to be tied to one of the country's many eligible young ladies. There was quite a fuss among the families as to whose daughter he would be tied to; so much so that the monarchs declared that he would choose for himself in order to keep biases out of the match. However, his choice would shock the entire country.<em>

_He chose Siobhan Lucas. She was the daughter of an old family that wielded an extraordinary gift, a gift that was both respected and feared: the gift of Fire Spinning. Fire Spinning was a delicate combat practice involving swords, daggers, and primarily magic from the Inferno school of magic. It was a dangerous style, but it was beautiful as well as deadly, and extremely rare. _

_Xavier's new parents, however, declared his match agreeable, and the two were married that same afternoon in a simple ceremony. To show his full commitment to the family, Xavier chose to take his wife's last name, casting aside his own. Ten months later, Siobhan gave birth to a baby girl with eyes the colour of molten amber and hair as red as the hearth-flame._

_Every female descendant of Xavier and Siobhan Lucas born since their first born has possessed three similar qualities: amber eyes, fiery red hair, and the gift of spinning fire._

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><p><em>Now, 1000 years after Xavier stumbled across Torerra, it is still as hidden as it has always been; there are no texts on it, no maps of it's location. Visitors still do not remember even a single detail of the country once they have left. Nothing is known of the religion, government, culture, or language.<em>

_The magical presence felt from that corner of Thedas, however, has only grown stronger over the years rather than waned, something that has many scholars and arcanists intrigued as to just how much power lies beneath Torerra; and how soon it will be unleashed._


	2. Fire

_**A/N**: Welcome to yet another one of the my Dragon Age fanfictions! This one is a little different than my last, however – it's an alternative look at the happenings after Dragon Age: Inquisition. All characters and locations are property of Bioware [except for the protagonist and Torerra; these are my personal creations], and I thank them for allowing me to play in their sandbox. :)_

_I am accepting cover art and fan art for this fic, so toss 'em at me!_

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><p>It had been little more than a year since Maxwell Trevelyan closed the breach that threatened to destroy all of Thedas as it was known, and even still, the Inquisition wields a strong hold over the citizens of Thedas. They look to it for guidance, as does the Chantry, and many visitors make the pilgrimage to Skyhold, walking the Inquisitor's Path.<p>

The election of Cassandra Pentaghast as Divine came as no surprise to anyone, as the Inquisitor always made it clear that he stood behind her gaining the title. As a Seeker, Max had seen no one more fitting than she, and her goals were commendable. She still valued several of Thedas' old traditions, but she also made many necessary changes.

Theda's mage circles still existed, but they were granted autonomy, even despite the required Templar presence within each one. The Templar Order had been reformed and reminded that they were protectors of all people, not jailers, and the mages had been given a set of basic guidelines to follow. Blood magic was still prohibited from being practiced, but instead of Tranquility for those who deigned to break the rules, they were simply imprisoned with Templar guards for a period of time determined by each First Enchanter.

It worked. All of it worked well, and there had been less death in the year since the new Divine's Chantry than there had been in quite some time. Thedas was finally at peace with all of it's denizens. Or at least it was, for a time.

The summer pilgrimage was the one that brought the most people to Skyhold; the cool mountain air and plethora of coloured blooms that covered the walkways and the gardens were spectacular during the hot season, and this year was no different. So people thought.

As the last of the pilgrims filtered into Skyhold's main courtyard, Max caught sight of a figure some ways down the path, clearly struggling with the incline. A gentle smile tugged at his lips, and he excused himself from speaking with his military commander to go and assist what he assumed was an elder with the last leg of the journey.

"Allow me to help." He spoke gently as he reached the figure, holding out a hand to them. When he caught sight of the person beneath the lightweight cloak, however, his breath caught. A young woman, skin as pale as a moonlit night, met his cool grey eyes with molten amber ones of her own. Her pale cheeks were flushed with exertion, and her words were breathless.

"Ahh, I don't want to trouble you..." She mumbled, an unmistakeable accent tainting her voice. Whoever she was, Max knew she was not from any part of Thedas that he himself was familiar with. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he answered her worried remark. "It's no trouble, my lady. I myself struggled with this last few metres when I first made the trip. It gets easier each time."

His words were rewarded with a charming laugh that Max could only describe as cheerful and childlike, and a sheepish smile spread across her red painted lips. "Well, if you insist, my lord." She took his proffered hand, and Max bit down on his tongue to keep from gasping out loud. Unlike what he'd been expecting, her touch was searing hot; as if she'd held a hot iron within her grasp for a time.

Choosing not to remark on her rather unusual presence and appearance, Max walked with her up to Skyhold's gates, and once they were inside, he presented the stronghold with a flourish. "Welcome to Skyhold, my lady. Home of the Inquisition, as well as quite a number of odd folk." His words were overpowered with a booming, "Watch who you're calling 'odd', Thunder!" and the young woman at his side glanced at him with a wry smile.

Max rolled his eyes, making her laugh again. It was a sound that Max could get used to hearing around the hold regularly; his other companions were often far too serious for his liking. "That's Bull – you'll know him when you see him, I promise." He told the young woman with a wink before he remembered his manners. "Maker, please forgive me. I never asked your name, my lady." He turned to face her fully, taking in her appearance as he waited for her to respond.

She had hair the colour of red flames, and wore leather and cloth armour akin to a rogue, but obviously tailored to allow for more range of motion. It was not unlike the assassin's armour set that several of the Inquisition scouts wore. She was also very slender, though not painfully so thanks to the muscles that moved easily each time she shifted, and her amber eyes regarded him with as much thought as he regarded her.

"I apologise, my lord, for not giving my name earlier. My name is Niamh Lucas." She curtsied quite lowly and elegantly, causing a few people to look over at her with admiration and curiosity. When she rose, Max smiled at her warmly. "May I ask your name, my lord?" She asked quietly, trying not to draw attention to her question, aware of the nobles who were scrutinizing her every move.

He grinned at her wryly. "Of course. My name is-"

"Inquisitor!" A voice called from behind him, causing Max to groan audibly and turn around. He was met with the amused amber gaze of his commander once again. "Not trying to charm another lady, are we?"

Niamh flushed darkly and looked down at her hands as Max laughed heartily at the quip, shaking his head. "I doubt Dorian would approve of that, or did you forget about him, hmm? And how many times must I remind you to call me Max? Your memory is getting to be as bad as Varric's friend Merril, Cullen."

The commander rolled his eyes as he made his way down the steps, not having come into full view of Niamh just yet. "Yes, well, I'll continue to address you by your station in front of our visitors, unless-" he faltered slightly as his eyes fell upon Niamh, who had knelt immediately at the mention of Max's position.

"Forgive me, Your Worship, I didn't realise it was you." She spoke so softly that both men almost missed the apology, but he was too busy snickering at Cullen's shocked expression to answer her. "Cat got your tongue, Cullen?" He chided, making the former Templar's cheeks flush before he turned to face Niamh.

"You don't have to kneel before me, Niamh. And **please**, call me Max. So few people here actually use my name that I'm beginning to forget it." He grinned, eliciting a chuckle from both his commander and their redhaired visitor.

"Very well, Max, If that is your will, I shall make it so." She remarked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she rose, regarding both men curiously. "It is my will. Now, if you'll indulge me, my lady, I have a few questions. I'm sure my dear commander does as well, once his tongue is returned to his mouth by whatever cat has run off with it." Max's comment had the curly haired commander sputtering for a moment before he walked off, cheeks still flaming as he cursed Max under his breath.

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><p>Niamh watched in amusement as he stormed off before she returned her gaze to that of the Inquisitor. "Ask away." She stated, her tone so full of adamancy that Max started laughing again before he took her arm and walked with her toward the stronghold's courtyard gardens.<p>

"I must say, I haven't heard your accent from any part of Thedas that I am familiar with. Where are you from, if I may be bold enough to start there?" He asked after a time, nodding in greeting to a few soldiers who shouted hellos at him.

Niamh swallowed a little bit, slowing her pace as she thought of how best to answer the question he'd posed. "It's...complicated." She finally answered slowly, and Max laughed a little. "Come now, surely it can't be that bad."

"No, it's not bad. Just very, very complicated." Niamh sighed, stopping and looking up at him. "Where I'm from...it's got some special circumstances. If I told you, you'd forget I ever told you before I even finished telling you." Max's eyebrows raised slightly as he glanced down at her. "Now you have me even more intrigued, my lady." He motioned to a bench by one of the rosebushes, which Niamh sank onto gratefully.

"Where I'm from, you can only get to if someone who lives there invites you. Even if I were to show you on a map, it wouldn't exist for you, even if you were right in front of it." She chewed on her lower lip slowly, looking down at her hands as she continued. "There is magic that feeds into the land, nurturing it." At Max's protest, she stopped him by holding up a hand. "It is not a spell that was put there by man. The magic beneath the land has been there since before the First Word was ever spoken." The redhead sighed softly as she looked over at the fountain in the centre of the gardens.

Max pondered that piece of information as they sat in a somewhat awkward silence for several minutes, finally deciding to ask a different question. "Is it anything like the rest of Thedas?" He finally asked, making Niamh laugh again. "No, actually. It's far more beautiful. Especially the summer flowers. Beautiful blooms of orange and yellow, bigger than any flower I've ever seen anywhere else in Thedas."

"I'm jealous." the Inquisitor pouted slightly, looking at his gardens. "And I thought my gardens were impressive." The melancholy in his voice made the young woman grin wryly. "They are, just not as impressive as the meadows there." The honesty in her statement made Max burst out laughing, and he shook his head in amusement before he asked another question.

"You look like you're quite skilled in combat. What class are you? Warrior? Rogue?" he threw out a couple of guesses and was surprised when she shook her head. "No. My skills are as unique as my homeland. They aren't something taught to you; you're born with them, and they manifest as you grow older. When you come of age, you go through a trial. If you've nurtured your gifts to the point where they are seen as mastered, you are gifted a set of armour and allowed to leave. If you've neglected your abilities, you're seen as a failure, and put to death publicly."

Max looked over in horror when she spoke of being put to death if you failed the combat trial. "That's horrible!" He gasped, and Niamh shook her head. "It gets worse. The people who put you to death are your own parents." Max's mouth fell open, and it was all he could do to swallow the overwhelming insult that he wanted to fling at the idea of such a practice. "I take it you've born witness to several...executions, then?" He wagered a guess, and his suspicions were confirmed when Niamh blanched slightly.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried." Max admonished softly, making to change the subject. "It's alright. I left my homeland because of an execution I witnessed. Well, rather..." She hesitated, and Max felt his heart shatter, able to guess exactly what had happened. "How old were you when your parents died?" He asked gently, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I was fifteen." She answered simply, looking at her hands. The colour of her eyes had shifted slightly as they'd spoken, and were now almost as red as her leather armour. "My brother...Keenan...he was twenty, only just turned."

Max blew out a sigh, and gently squeezed her shoulder. "It's alright. You don't have to talk about it." She threw him a grateful smile, and he rose again, holding out a hand. "Come on. Let's get you settled into a place of your own. Then I can introduce you to a few people I think you'll like."

Grinning, Niamh took his hand, rising with a dancer's grace and allowing him to lead her toward one of the towers that littered the battlements.

_Maybe...just maybe, I can call this place home someday._

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><p><em><strong>AN**: Whew! Sorry there's not really much going on here – this is really just a chapter to introduce Niamh and my Inquisitor, as well as a brief look into Cullen – my favourite DA character, for obvious reasons :3 – and how the Inquisition has faired since the end of the threats. _

_Thanks for reading! Please remember to favourite, follow, and review! _

_See you next chapter!_

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><p><em><strong>Important Notes<strong>:_

_Niamh is pronounced "Neev-iv"and is Irish for __"__radiance, lustre, brightness." The daughter of the sea god Manannan, she was known as "Niamh of the Golden Hair," a beautiful princess riding on a white horse. _

_Maxwell Trevelyan, my Inquisitor, is in an exclusive relationship with Dorian Pavus._

_Cassandra Pentaghast was named Divine shortly after the defeat of Corypheus. _

_In this particular story, Cullen Rutherford is roughly 34 years old. (his approximate age at the end of DA:I, according to the pooling of several sources [of which I can't remember, but one of them is the Bioware forums])_


	3. Spinner

_A/N: Thank you to all who left me messages in regards to the beginning chapters of this fic – I really appreciate the feedback!_

_I'm still looking for cover or fan-art for this fanfic as well as my other one [see "Pretender"], so if you'd like to draw something up for me, I'd love to feature it!_

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><p>Three rather uneventful months had passed since Niamh had arrived at Skyhold, and to Max's amusement, all of his remaining companions got along quite famously with the intriguing female. Especially Varric and Sera, which had admittedly surprised him at first. Varric had initially stated that he would be returning to Kirkwall once the mess with the Breach had been sorted out, but he had received news from home that had put an end to those plans rather swiftly. Sera was someone who flitted in and out of Skyhold regularly, but Max had made it clear that she was always welcome within it's confines.<p>

Vivienne had returned to the Montsimmard Circle a day after meeting Niamh, something that had relieved the Inquisitor to hear, as she had been undeniably disrespectful to Niamh. Max had walked in on the knight-enchanter accusing the poor woman of being nothing less than an apostate, and it had made his blood boil. However, before he could step in and intervene, Cullen had done just that, his voice low and threatening. When Vivienne had refused, Cullen had brought attention to her misconduct by raising his voice toward her in front of 4 noble families, all of whom had regarded her with disdain.

Niamh had been extremely grateful, and had shown her gratification by kneeling before the commander, her head down and her hands crossed on her knee. Max had chuckled softly while Cullen stood there stammering for a moment before he begged her to rise, stating that she need not bow before him, especially for something so simple. However, Max had seen the amount of respect Cullen had for the mysterious woman rise quite highly in that moment, and it had warmed his heart to see a smile on the usually sullen man's face.

Max had also seen the young red-head spending time studying magic theory with Skyhold's resident arcanist as well as Dorian, who spoke very highly of her in conversations he held with Max. Niamh hadn't even been phased by the admission of the magister on his relationship status with Max. Instead, she had offered congratulations, and told him that Dorian was a lucky man to have snagged someone as kind-hearted and strong as Max, which had made him laugh and hug her lightly.

Dorian had told Max that Niamh's skill with magic was unlike anything he'd ever felt, describing it as a gentle breeze within the Veil rather than the strong pull that other magically adept people exerted.

Max shook himself from his reverie as he woke on that particular morning at the crack of dawn, rubbing his eyes as he attempted to quietly disentangle himself from the arms of his favourite mage. When he finally managed to worm his way from Dorian's grasp, he ducked into the bathroom to wash up quickly, tugging on his armour once he was dry.

Satisfied, he walked downstairs to the Grand Hall with the intent on going to the Chantry for morning prayers. However, as he walked down the steps toward the main courtyard, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eyes. Glancing up, he realised what it was almost instantly, and his breath caught.

Niamh was positioned on the top of the battlement tower she had made her home within, and as Max watched, she began what would appear as a regular dance to anyone who wasn't watching close enough. As she spun, daggers spinning with her, tendrils of fire appeared around her, streams of gold and red against the soft hues of the sunrise. Intrigued, Max made his way up toward her, his eyes never leaving the young woman as her daggers flashed around her with her movements.

She was in a world of her own as she spun fire, humming softly as she did. The song was one from her home land, and it was as enchanting to listen to as it was to watch. Ten or twenty minutes later, Max jumped a little bit as Niamh slammed her daggers into the stone floor, kneeling on one knee as a whirlwind of flame shot out from the daggers quickly, fizzling out harmlessly before it ever reached him.

"Good morning, Max." came an amused call from the kneeling woman, who rose swiftly and silently before she made her way over to the somewhat shocked Inquisitor. "Good morning, Niamh." Max managed to stammer after he was sure he'd regained his breath, managing to make his fiery friend laugh heartily.

"I take it you saw, then?" Niamh asked once she was done laughing, tucking her daggers back into the sheaths on her thighs. "Hmm? Oh." Max paused momentarily to gather his thoughts, not really being alert in the mornings. "I did, actually." He shot her a smile, laughing as a flush coloured her pale face. "It was beautiful, Niamh. I've never seen anything like it."

Niamh flushed a little darker, but she offered him a megawatt smile. "Thank you, Max. Took quite a long time to perfect it. I almost failed my own trials, if I'm totally honest." She rubbed her neck a little bit, chuckling softly. Max cocked an eyebrow at her as they made their way down to the kitchens to grab a bite to eat, chatting amicably on the way.

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><p>On their way there, Cullen met up with them, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He was normally up around this time, but something about the way he stumbled slightly as he walked alongside Niamh told both the firespinner and Max that the commander hadn't had the best night's sleep, and it worried both of them slightly.<p>

Granted, there were very few threats the Inquisition had to face now, but it didn't stop any of them from training regularly to ensure that they were well prepared should anything ever happen. Cullen, much to Max's amazement, had weaned himself off of lyrium completely since becoming the Inquisition's commander, and almost all of their other Templars had followed suit.

They had been worried about how effective and how strong the Templars would be without their lyrium augmented talents, but it had turned out to be the best decision any of them had made. Every soldier who had gone through the withdrawal was stronger and more effective than the few Templars that still dosed themselves.

Cullen had definitely had the worst time of it out of all of them, and both Max and Cassandra had kept careful eyes on him as he'd gone through the process. There had been several times where he almost gave up and began to dose again, but Max had encouraged him to never give up. He had become a much better commander since then, and he was a lot less serious than he had been.

Turning to the commander now, Max asked softly, "Cullen, are you alright? You seem out of sorts this morning." His tone was laced with worry, and Niamh's expression mirrored the emotion in Max's voice. She had grown very fond of the commander, to the amusement of both Max and Dorian, and they often caught her chatting with him about sparring techniques or just general nonsense. It had become clear after the first few times that she was trying to get his mind off of the horrors of the Breach, even though it had been a year since it was closed, and Max had to hand it to her; she'd done a phenomenal job with lifting people's spirits.

Cullen, who hadn't answered immediately, looked over at the two of them with a sheepish smile, and nodded as he paused for a moment. "Yes, I'm alright. Just didn't sleep as soundly as I would have liked."

Niamh's earlier jubilation after firespinning vanished almost immediately when she caught sight of the dark circles under Cullen's eyes. The smile that had been pulling at her lips had was gone, replaced by a frown as concern drew lines around her golden eyes. Max, in an effort to lighten the suddenly sullen mood, quipped dryly, "Girls on the brain, Commander?"

Instead of being rewarded with laughter, as had been the custom in the past when he'd teased the commander about being sweet on someone, a crimson flush began to creep into the former templar's complexion. He coughed to cover his initial discomfort, and grumbled something under his breath before he entered the kitchen, leaving behind a very amused Max and a slightly bewildered Niamh staring after him.

"Well, I suppose that answers that question then, hmm?" Niamh announced after a momentarily awkward silence, and her aloofness to the situation made Max burst out laughing before he hugged her fondly, walking with her into the kitchens to pilfer food from a secret stock he and the firespinner had started shortly after her arrival.

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><p>When they entered the kitchen, they were surprised to see Leliana and Varric also present, a very red-faced commander sitting in front of them. Max could only guess as to why he was blushing and both rogues wore cheeky grins on their faces.<p>

"You two aren't tormenting the poor commander again, are you?" Niamh asked openly once she noticed Cullen's beet-red face and the sinister smiles on the spymaster and storyteller's faces. Reaching for one of the rarer types of apples hidden in one of the barrels, she leaned against the bench, cocking an eyebrow as she waited for Varric or Leliana to answer.

"Us, make fun of the commander? Spinner, you wound me." came Varric's dry response, and Niamh grinned at him as she chewed thoughtfully. Leliana piped up afterwards with an expression of mock outrage, "We wouldn't dare do such a thing!"

Max sniggered quietly as Niamh openly laughed once she'd swallowed what she was chewing, walking over and knocking both rogues playfully on the head before she made her way out of the kitchen again, heading toward the gardens to tend to the blossoms she'd planted a few weeks earlier.

When she was out of earshot and out of sight, Cullen's flush began to abate, and Max decided to call him out on it. It had been something that had occurred fairly regularly since he'd first laid eyes on the fiery redhead, and Max was determined to set the two of them up.

"Cullen, when are you just going to admit it?" he finally asked, leaning against the bench where Niamh had been not ten minutes previously. Cullen sputtered for the second time that morning, the blush returning with vengeance as Leliana and Varric both buried their heads in their arms to quell their laughter.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." the commander finally managed to choke out, rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. "Bullshit. You've barely taken your eyes off of Niamh for more than ten minutes ever since she arrived here. Everyone here can tell you're interested." At this news, Cullen looked up with alarm.

"Everyone, that is, except Niamh, who seems to be as oblivious to it as you apparently are." Max added with a pointed scowl at the commander. Cullen visibly relaxed at the reassurance, an action that had Varric and Leliana laughing even harder and Max rolling his eyes. "Maker's breath, Cullen. When are you just going to admit it? It really isn't that hard."

"Alright!" came the exasperated response of the former templar. "Yes, I'm interested in Niamh. Probably moreso than I should be. I want to try and get to know her, but I have no idea how."

The grin on Max's face widened as both Leliana and Varric raised their heads to stare at the commander in surprise. "Well, commander." Max began, still grinning as he took a seat at the table in front of the blonde warrior.

"That is where I come in."

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><p><em><strong>AN:** I know, this chapter is sort of lame, but I want to take this fic at a somewhat leisurely pace. It is, after all, after the Breach is officially out of the sky and Corypheus has been slain, so there isn't much need for rushing around. :)_

_As always, please favourite, follow, and review! I would love to hear what you all think about this fic so far!_

_See you in the next chapter!_


	4. Gifts

_**A/N:** And I'm back to it after taking some time to really knuckle down on my other fic ["Pretender" for those of you who are new! :)] I am really enjoying how this story is progressing, and I figured it was about time to share with you all where we're going to go with it. Yeah, it's going to be kind of uneventful since the main events of DA:I are over, but it'll still be full of funnies and the like. Especially blushing, bumbling Commander Cullen :p_

_Let's get to it!_

_[this fanfiction is unbeta'd. any and all mistakes are to be blamed on me.(for those who pm'd me about betareading for this fic: thank you, but i'm not looking for a beta for this story.)]_

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><p>The weeks after Cullen's admission in the kitchen followed with no incident save for a couple of accidental run-ins with Niamh, and Max had to admit that he enjoyed watching Cullen stumble over words. Niamh, to his amazement, was just as terrible at conversing with the commander, and their encounters usually ended up with either Max or Dorian rescuing one of them before they injured themselves.<p>

Max had spoken with Cullen somewhat since he'd offered his help in getting the former Templar closer to the fire-spinner, and his information proved to be of great value in the times that Niamh had requested Cullen's presence. He had told Cullen about where Niamh came from; the mysterious land that no one save for those born on it could remember, and also of the trauma she had endured before she had journeyed to Skyhold. Max also told Cullen of the things that Niamh liked; such as oranges and classical Ferelden literature, as well as the things she didn't: Vivienne, bitter greens, and ironically, hot climates.

Max had also revealed that Niamh had no prior relationship experience, and that she was the only member of her family left in a long line of fire-spinners. Cullen had been very quiet after that, and Max had found out an hour later that Cullen had only just received word of his family's death in a bandit raid. He had apologised to the commander and offered him personal leave in order to deal with his grief, which Cullen had accepted. He'd left for a week, returning to Honnleath to honour his siblings and his mother properly.

Niamh had asked of Cullen's whereabouts the day after he'd left, and upon learning that Cullen no longer had any family left, had excused herself to the highest battlement tower, an unreadable expression on her youthful face. From the central courtyard, Max, Dorian, and most of their soldiers watched as she performed a dance so full of sorrow and despair that most of Skyhold was in tears watching her. Unlike the first dance Max had seen, Niamh spun flames of soft blues and purples, and her movements were pained.

Solas had painted the entire scene from memory some days later, and when Cullen returned to Skyhold following his family's services, the elven mage presented him with the canvas as well as a few words of mourning. Their soldiers had offered condolences as well, but Cullen had been too taken by the painting to hear them. His eyes had sought Niamh out, and when they finally rested on where she knelt atop the battlements, he excused himself to speak with her. Max watched as Cullen approached the fire-spinner before exchanging some words that had Cullen trembling and Niamh trying to console him as they knelt together. Max knew that Cullen had been touched by the knowledge that she had mourned his losses as her own, and had commemorated the souls of his family to the Maker in her own way.

From then on, the friendship between Niamh and Cullen became very close, and the two of them began to spend more together; though they seemed to take a couple of steps forward as well as several backwards, much to the amusement of their companions. The first time Niamh had asked to spend time with him alone after his return to Skyhold, Cullen had been so taken back by the offer that he'd automatically declined before promptly walking toward the stables, saddling his horse, and taking off for a couple of hours. Dorian had been beside himself with laughter as Niamh stood there with an expression on her face akin to that of a lost child before he'd steered her back inside the main hall and up to the library, explaining that Cullen was still not quite himself.

The second time Niamh had asked Cullen to spend some time with her- several days after the first time- he had accepted graciously. The two of them had spent the afternoon with Cullen imprinting one of the more headstrong of the Inquisition's stallions, Perseus, to Niamh since she was without her own personal mount to ride when Max asked her to accompany him on errands outside of Skyhold. Both Max and Cullen had been amazed when the small and fiery red-haired woman had stepped up to the pitch-black stallion, standing her ground firmly as he attempted to assert his dominance over her.

Max had sucked in a sharp breath when the stallion had lunged for the fire-spinner, but she had simply held her ground, allowing the stallion to come to a confused and sudden stand-still directly in front of her as Niamh's golden eyes bore into his brilliant jade ones. Cullen had wisely stepped out of the area so as not to distract either of the two in the ring, and Max could tell he was nervous about leaving Niamh alone.

However, both of their worries were dispelled as the stallion lowered his head in defeat, conceding to Niamh after a brief moment and allowing the smaller woman to step forward. Max had heard her lilting voice as she'd crooned to the animal, reassuring him that she thought the magnificent beast her equal before she easily swung up onto his back without tacking him up.

With a joyful laugh at Cullen, she had turned Perseus and clucked her tongue, the two of them taking off like a rocket out of the main gates. Cullen had followed not a second later, and the two had ridden for a good three hours before returning to Skyhold, both of them wearing brilliant smiles and flushed cheeks. Max had bitten his lip against a smile when Niamh had hugged Cullen after they'd both dismounted; Cullen had hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and gently resting his chin on her head before Niamh had stepped back to freshen up before dinner. Since then, the two had spent quite a bit of time together either riding, playing chess, or sparring, Niamh attempting to teach Cullen the basics of defending against someone with her fighting style.

* * *

><p>Though Max was enjoying watching the two of them fail miserably at communicating with each other despite all the time they'd spent together, even he had to admit that he was getting impatient with them both. They made an adorable couple; with Niamh's fiery-red hair, sun-kissed skin and liquid gold eyes a striking compliment to Cullen's golden blonde tresses, tanned skin and amber eyes, and most of Skyhold had admitted that the two looked good together.<p>

Dorian had threatened to make the two of them admit their feelings to each other if they didn't get on with it soon, and Varric took great pleasure in writing short stories that were obviously about the two of them and leaving them in conspicuous places all over the stronghold. Even Solas made mention of how tiring it was to watch them dance circles around their feelings, a sentiment that was echoed by several of the soldiers who had placed bets on how long it would take for them to fess up.

Shaking his head, Max wandered out to the gardens where he knew Niamh spent her mornings tending to the brightly coloured flowers, and smiled lightly as he remembered that the spinner's name-day was coming up shortly. He'd only just learned of the fact the night before when Dorian and Solas brought it to his attention, their aptness for locating such information rather intriguing. Solas had managed to locate Niamh's pull on the Fade and had somehow managed to figure out exactly how old the pull was. Max didn't pretend to understand how he had managed to do it. All that mattered is that they knew and were working on a surprise gathering for it.

As he came into the gardens, however, he was greeted by Cullen instead of Niamh, and the commander looked a little at odds with himself. "Good morning, Cullen." Max offered cheerily as he made his way to the blonde warrior. "Niamh not here this morning?" He asked, grinning to himself as Cullen flushed slightly.

"Ah, no. She was here earlier, though; you just missed her." the commander mumbled softly, rubbing his neck a little. "What's the matter, Cullen?" Max asked, concern replacing the grin as he watched Cullen gaze toward the battlements with a lovelorn frown. "She got a letter from someone." He admitted, scuffing his boots against the dirt. "I delivered it to her here, since I knew she comes here in the morning. The contents were unknown to me, but they seemed to upset her a great deal; she excused herself to the battlements to meditate, I think." Cullen shrugged and Max sighed softly, looking up at where Cullen had been glancing not a moment before.

"She'll tell us when she's ready." He reassured the commander, smiling faintly as he shifted his stance slightly. "Speaking of Niamh; her name-day is in a couple of days. Solas just told me about it last night, and we figured we'd try and do something for her. Let her know that we think she truly belongs here." He added, and Cullen nodded thoughtfully. "I think she'd like that. Though, truthfully, I have no idea what to get her for a name-day gift." Another frown tugged at the scar on Cullen's mouth, and Max laughed softly as he walked with him back toward the entrance of Skyhold.

"That makes two of us, my friend. I know Solas is presenting her with a painting, though he refuses to tell me what it is. Dorian, bless him, had some custom armour made for her in hues of reds and golds, since her old set is sort of ruined after Perseus decided to chew on it when she wasn't looking a few days ago." Max sighed exasperatedly, running a hand through his black hair thoughtfully. "Varric of course has written her a story; rather elaborate, so I'm told, and Sera and Bull decided to get her some old-fashioned booze and treats from around Thedas that she likely hasn't tried yet."

Cullen laughed softly before groaning at the mention of Bull and Sera getting Niamh booze. "I don't think Niamh has forgiven them for that night of Wicked Grace in the tavern just yet." Max laughed in response, inclining his head in acknowledgement. "I'm thinking of granting her a position of importance here in Skyhold; an advisory position worthy of her skill and her knowledge." Max eventually admitted, smiling faintly. "Lame, I know, but I can't come up with a name for the position. Got any ideas?"

The question gave Cullen pause, and he tapped his hand against his chin as he leaned against the door of the main hall, pushing it open with his shoulder before they stepped inside. "Well, Dorian is your magical advisor, so that's out. She's not a knight, either, so that rules out a Lieutenant's position." Cullen mused, slowing his stride as he thought carefully. "I have no idea. Sorry, Max." The commander shrugged slightly, his shoulders slumping as he thought of something to get for Niamh.

Max laughed softly and gently clapped Cullen on the shoulder before wandering off toward the library. "Don't worry, Cullen. We'll figure something out for her before the party happens." With that, he disappeared around the corner, leaving Cullen to his thoughts.

* * *

><p>The two days leading up to Niamh's name-day passed quickly, and everyone at Skyhold was scrambling to make the celebration one that the young fire-spinner would remember for years to come. The resident mages crafted beautiful crystalline lights that each housed a small flicker of a different magic school, the templars and soldiers took care of most of the heavy lifting, and Ambassador Montilyet took care of all the minute details, including bossing around just about everyone she could see.<p>

Max had thought a great deal of what he would name the position that Niamh would fill, and decided on awarding her the position of "Archmage of the Inquisition". It was formal and formidable, and would remind people of the power Max had at his command, as well as stand as a testament to Niamh's ability. The rest of Niamh's gifts lay on a grand table at the end of the hall, very little of the wood visible beneath the pile of gaily wrapped packages. Max also noticed a rather sleek package wrapped in amber paper and tied with streams of red ribbon that Cullen had places shortly before taking his position at the door, and found himself wondering what was in it.

Not long after his musings began, Dorian led a very confused Niamh into the main hall, chattering away about 'something urgent that the Inquisitor had to tell her'. Max resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and instead offered Niamh a cold, practiced look. He heard her voice crack slightly as she asked, "You s-sent for me, Your Worship?" The tremor he'd instilled in her voice made him feel slightly guilty for tricking her, and he cocked an eyebrow at her as she stood before him.

"Niamh Lucas. You have withheld valuable and insightful information from this Inquisition." Max's voice rang out over the hall, and he caught a soft cough as someone tried to cover up a laugh from the side halls. "What do you mean, Your Worship?" Niamh asked nervously, her voice raising as she stared at the floor. "You never told me today was your name-day." Max grinned at her as a booming "Surprise!" resounded within the hall, and Niamh shot him a look that would have killed him if it could.

"Maker's breath, Max, you had me terrified!" She chided him, rubbing her neck as their companions laughed at her and wished her well on her name-day. "Yes, well. We wanted to surprise you." Max quipped with a wave of his hand, laughing softly as he stepped forward to embrace her. "Enjoy the food while you can; you're going to have one hell of a time opening gifts." He motioned to the table, and Niamh's eyes widened. "Are those...?" She looked at him again, and Max nodded. "Yep. Varric, Bull, Sera, Dorian, Harding, even Leliana got you something. The soldiers did too, as did some of the mages and templars. Even our commander got you something." he added, and Niamh's smile grew slightly.

Niamh bit down on her lip as she glanced around at the sea of smiling faces. "Thank you all." She murmured gratefully, a grin threatening to split her face as she allowed herself to be guided to the head of a table and presented with a plate full of her favourite foods. She shared in the revelry, laughing and telling stories to those who asked to get to know her a little more.

An hour later, Niamh began opening the hundreds of gifts she had been given, grateful for each one as she rewarded the giver with a warm hug. Leliana had gotten her hands on a beautiful ancient text of Thedas history that had Niamh in awe as she flipped through the pages; Harding presented her with several writings on dwarven lyirum-smithing; Bull and Sera awarded her with a cask of booze each that made Niamh groan as she remembered the night she'd lost her dignity, making the entire table laugh. Several soliders had gotten her smaller trinkets and things that she could make plenty of use out of, such as a belt with over a hundred pockets that was slender and fashionable, the mages had given her a beautiful tapestry woven with different kinds of magic that had Niamh entranced for several minutes.

The gift giving went on for quite a while longer, each gift giving Niamh pause as she studied it, asking questions when she wasn't sure of uses or even what it was. Varric gave her the book he'd written about her, making her laugh and smile as she skimmed through a few pages; Dorian presented her with the beautiful armour set he'd had crafted for her, earning a rather fond embrace and an expression of sheer gratitude; Solas gifted her a rather beautiful painting of one of her dances, though it was painted like one would see it in the Fade, the canvas littered with hues of whites and pale greens, the fire swirling around her painted as Veilfire.

When there was only his gift and Cullen's to give, Max called everyone's attention to the front of the room, gesturing for Niamh to join him at the throne seated at the head of the hall. "Tonight, I would like to honour a fierce fighter, a gifted dancer, and a skilled artisan of her craft by awarding her a position of authority within this Inquisition. For the months she has been here, she has done nothing but offer help to those who needed it, and guidance to those who sought it from her. She has offered herself, strength and will, to each and every person here without asking for anything in return." Max looked down at Niamh fondly, smiling as she stared at him in shock. "She has become a treasured friend, and a loyal confidant. I am grateful to have her with us."

Max walked a few steps toward her, stopping in front of her as his voice rang out. "From this moment forth, you, Niamh Artoria Lucas, are presented with the title 'Archmage of the Inquisition'." Niamh's mouth dropped open before she smartly snapped it shut, tears of gratitude streaming down her face as Max gently lay a hand on her shoulder. The applause of her companions caused her to laugh through her tears, and she fought to regain her composure before she turned to face her friends.

* * *

><p>When the presentation of her title was over, Niamh excused herself to walk the battlements, needing the air to calm her thoughts and to centre herself. Never in her lifetime had she thought to receive a title, let alone one of such prestige. She knew that Max would never had given her the title had he thought her unworthy of it, and she smiled a little to herself as she leaned against the stone wall of Skyhold, looking out at the mountains as she murmured a soft prayer of thanks from her homeland in a language she had not used since leaving it.<p>

_Angele Dei, qui custos es mei,  
>Me tibi commissum pietate superna;<br>Hodie, Hac nocte illumina,  
>custodi, rege, et guberna.<em>

Upon hearing footsteps still suddenly behind her, she drew in a breath to turn and face whoever had come upon her as she finished the prayer. Instead of finding a soldier or a giggling couple, she found herself face to face with Cullen, and he seemed rather flustered. "I ah...I apologise for interrupting, Niamh. I can return later if you desire..." he trailed off, and Niamh gently caught his arm before he turned to leave.

"It's alright. I was finished anyway." She smiled softly, noticing that Cullen had a rather sleek looking gift with him. "I came to give you this...I figured you might want to open at least one of your gifts alone, without people fawning over you." Niamh laughed softly, grateful for Cullen's insight. "I would love to." She gently took the package from him, her eyes skimming it curiously.

With careful fingers, Niamh unwrapped the amber paper and untied the red ribbons, setting them aside gently as she frowned curiously at the slender box the paper had been shielding. Settling down on the battlement floor, Niamh set the box before her and carefully lifted the lid. When she caught sight of what was inside, she was stunned.

Nestled in a bed of beautiful amber satin was a pair of exquisite weapons unlike any she had ever seen. They were like daggers, only they were somewhat circular shaped, and Niamh could feel the hum of magic ebbing off of the blades. She ran her fingers over the beautiful white steel before she noticed the handles of each weapon were wrapped in a mixture of braided leather and red silk the same colours as her fiery hair. Though she had no idea what they were called, they were of a quality that Niamh was sure had cost the commander dearly. "Cullen...these are beautiful!" She breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Cullen offered her a smile as he knelt before her, gently lifting the weapons and handing them to her, handles first. "They're called chakrams. They are imbued with magic that will only be enhanced by your own raw power, and they act somewhat like boomerangs. If you toss them out in an arch in front of you, they will return to you once they have found purchase in their target." He explained patiently as Niamh's hands closed around the handles, testing the weight of each and finding them surprisingly light and easy to wield. "These are the first pair of chakrams ever made in Thedas; I figured you'd like something instead of regular daggers or swords, since the longer blades seem to hinder your fighting style."

Niamh smiled brilliantly, noticing that there was also special sheaths for the blades in the box, and she found herself touched by the thoughtfulness of his gift. Once she was sure they were safely strapped to her person, she rose fluidly to her feet, embracing Cullen tightly before stepping away a half-step to look up at him as she lay a hand on his forearm. "Thank you, Cullen. I will treasure these."

"You're welcome, Niamh." Cullen spoke softly, smiling at her before he noticed their proximity, a rather flattering blush creeping into his cheeks as he glanced at her hand. Niamh made to move the appendage from his arm, but Cullen lay a hand over hers briefly, his gaze fixed on hers. A questioning expression shifted over her face as she watched him, and Cullen bit his lower lip as he slowly leaned down, closing the distance between their faces.

The last thought on Niamh's mind as Cullen's lips finally captured her own was a rather cheeky, _"Finally!"_

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_And there we have it! Hope you guys enjoyed this instalment, and I hope it won't be too long until I get another one up for you!_

_The prayer, by the way, in case you were wondering, is the Guardian Angel's prayer in Latin. Below is the English translation._

_Angel of God, my guardian dear,__  
><em>_to whom His love commits me here,__  
><em>_ever this night be at my side,__  
><em>_to light and guard, to rule and guide_

_As always, favourite, follow, and review! I love hearing from you all!_

_See you all in the next chapter!_


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